Pulling Weeds.

Growing up, we lived one house away from my grandparents. What a gift to my sister and I (and probably to my grandparents too). Every day from kindergarten to my senior year, I went to their house for breakfast every single day. We had assigned days for the menu, Mondays and Wednesdays were for my choice of cereal, Tuesdays and Thursdays were eggs any style and Fridays were for French toast. One thing to note was that my Poppa also fresh squeezed orange juice for me every morning. If you have ever squeezed oranges by hand, you will know that this is a true labor of love. It takes a lot of time and also energy. And yet, every morning, my fresh squeezed juice was waiting. 

There are a lot of memories I have with my grandparents - too many to ever put into words. An incredibly vivid memory of Gran and Pops was their yard. They had a fairly good sized yard by Southern California standards and every inch had been touched by their hands, whether it was my Gran's roses and sweet pea garden or the countless hand laid bricks by my Poppa. He also had a pretty incredible greenhouse which was always fun for hide and seek. 

Poppa's cactus flower

Since we spent so much time at their house, we often found my Poppa out in the yard picking weeds. I used to think it was so cool because he had these little special hand tools for the tough ones, but he mostly used his leathered hands to pull them out. One thing I remember distinctly was the importance of pulling the weeds by the roots to make sure that you pulled it out completely. Without the root, you were just scratching the surface and the weed would grow right back. 

I have been pulling weeds with Thomas in our backyard and these memories of my Poppa come flooding back. Thomas loves to throw all of the weeds into the trash. He is incredibly helpful. But I find myself passing on Poppa's wisdom about getting the weeds at the roots. I am not sure Thomas understands just yet, but I hope to keep finding ways for him to recall these kinds of life lessons. 

What a metaphor for life. We have to get at the root of everything and with all that our world has faced in recent months, we have a lot to root out. But also to continue the work, one root at a time. It is not a job we can just mow right over. It is slow and painstaking, but worth it because you want the grass to grow and thrive. 

Keep pulling the weeds. Get at the root. And teach others to help you. It is better when the work is done together.

Motherhood.

When I was younger and people asked me about my life, I sketched out that I would be married by the 
time I was 22, probably teaching and driving a Volvo of some sort with 3-ish kids in tow. They say that if you want to see God laugh, you should tell Him your plans. I guess I make God laugh a lot because of all those dreams, the only thing to ring true was that I was a teacher, but even that has changed. I did not marry my high school sweetheart as I planned. Instead, I would endure a number of relationships, many of which were unhealthy and toxic to my goals and dreams. It wasn't until I was almost 39 that I became a wife to the man I viewed as my last attempt at online dating. Turns out he was one of the good guys. Pretty thankful I didn't give up looking before he crossed my phone screen.

And though I do not have 3-ish kids thanks to a cancer diagnosis and a completely altered plan, I was a dog mama to the most precious fur baby of all for 13+ years and after I turned 40, I finally held my precious baby boy. Thank you God for modern medicine that helped make him happen. Thomas is truly one of my life's greatest gifts and one of my proudest accomplishments. Not a day goes by that I don't thank God for him. The days are long, and the years are short, but I want to bottle up each memory as a treasure to revisit always. 

It is my goal to always show Thomas (and his dad) just how much I love him, but also how to be the best human he can be. I want to watch him grow, learn, and love life forever. I look forward to the days he starts to make decisions about his future. If he decides to go to college, where will he choose? What career path does he have in mind? Will he get married? Does he have kids? (The thought of hugging my future grandbabies sounds delicious.) Will he travel? Where will he live? Ultimately, any decision he makes, I am his biggest cheerleader. May he always know that he makes his mama proud and that my love for him is endless. 

But there are definitely some things I also want to teach him...

 

1. Love God. First and foremost. If you put God as the center of your life, your every decision, your path will always be made straight. It won't always be easy and the road may be narrow, but trust me, it is the road you want. God is always good. He is always faithful. His ways are higher than our own. And His plan will always be better - it may not always make sense, but trust it. 

2. Be a gentleman. Always. Open doors. Offer your seat, your jacket, a helping hand. It is not because others are weak, but because you value them more and want to be respectful and helpful. 

3. Dream bigger. 

4. Laugh a lot. 

5. Find a partner that honors you, respects you, supports you, and cherishes you. You are a treasure. Reciprocate these things. 

6. Give gifts for no reason. 

7. Speak your mind. Respectfully. 

8. Be spontaneous. Take the road trip. Dive in. Stay up late. Catch the sunset or the sunrise. 

9. Be memorable in the best way possible. 

10. Call your mom (and dad). Often. 

11. Say "I love you." Mean it. 

12. Lead with integrity. Never expect someone to do something you won't do so work harder and smarter, but don't let work be the reason you miss the important stuff.

13. Rise above the challenges. 

14. Know your worth. 

15. Wear sunscreen. 

16. Have a strong handshake but also a big hug ready when needed. 

17. Remember it is ok to cry. 

18. Never stop reading, including your Bible. 

19. Watch "Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium." It is one of my all-time favorites. And remember, before you reach your final act, that your life is an occasion. Rise to it. 

19. Always hug your mama. 

I love you infinity, Thomas. Mama has a lot more things to share with you, but for now, this will do. 

Mamas, hugs your babies tight tonight. Thank God for these precious gifts. And those of you that aren't mamas, but hope to be, I see you. I know the ache in the waiting. God's plans are always better. Always. 

Where Has the Time Gone?

It has been way too long since I have sat down to write. I guess that is what happens in the midst of a whirlwind year and then some from getting engaged, to married, and now a pregnancy (!!!). Not to mention a few more address changes (not starting that kind of chapter again!). And I have officially become Catholic. Of course, we have had so many other things mixed in to all of that like a fabulous honeymoon, Stella having two different surgeries, my mother getting married and moving to Idaho, as well as making memories with friends and family. It is evident that we do not believe in dull moments in our household. I suppose I am the one that bring that piece to the relationship as I married the most stable and steady man on the planet.

Poppa Tom

Though there has been much to celebrate, there is also a lot that has been lost. Sadly, my father-in-law has gone to his eternal home in July of 2017 after a brief battle with cancer. That was a very hard goodbye. I will forever consider myself blessed to have married into this family and to get to call him my father-in-law. Just as I think my own dad hung the moon, Poppa Tom definitely made me feel like I had just the right place in the family, marrying his only son. We also sadly lost Jack's cousin, Michael, in the fall, and not even a year after Tom's passing, my uncle Ed has joined them in heaven with his unexpected earthly departure in April.

Our original due date was November 6,
but we are now scheduled
for our c-section on October 15. 

As the days, weeks, and months have flown by, here we are about 6 weeks away from meeting our little boy (Stella is going to be a big sister!). This pregnancy has gone so quickly in many respects, but in other ways (like the lack of sleep, the endless appointments, and the bouts of "morning" sickness), it has inched by. I can't believe that I am going to be a mom! Finding out I was pregnant was one of the greatest moments of my life as I was crying in the bathroom texting my friend Julie the photo of the pee stick in the early morning hours, while Jack was still quite asleep in our room unbeknownst to my bathroom activities. I am sure that my tears were a lovely way to wake up as he didn't know what was going on. One of my favorite moments in this pregnancy besides announcing it and all the fun milestones, I enjoyed the reaction of our doctor when we told him that the pregnancy test was positive. He was quite surprised, saying our news was "remarkable." It was as if we hadn't been planning this whole thing and meeting with him for countless appointments prior to making it actually happen. I guess the odds were somewhat stacked against us, but we know that God is bigger and He did not disappoint. And of course, I believe that God has a sense of humor, considering it no coincidence that our original due date also marks the birthday of my late grandma (Nancy). And then finding out that we were having a boy just days before Jack's birthday and our first anniversary was literal icing on the cake.

My belly has grown to the size of a basketball as I am halfway through week 30, to which I am daily giving thanks for the healthy baby that lives within me (along with a handful of pesky fibroids). He is constantly kickboxing or disco dancing, which is always fun (except when it keeps me up all night). Amazing that half an ovary and a cancer history still allows for modern science and God's hand to give us a somewhat "normal" pregnancy through just one (very long round) of a successful fertility treatment. Other than being diagnosed with anemia and a placenta previa, I am beyond grateful that all has been relatively smooth throughout the last 7 1/2 months and our boy is healthy (with really long legs).

Our miracle baby.

I am also thankful for a husband that has been championing us through all of the stages of pregnancy with his patience and attentiveness. He was an excellent nurse getting us to this point with the daily doses of shots and medications that had to be perfectly administered for us to even get here. He has made sure that my baths are not too hot, that there is ice cream in the freezer, entertained my chili cheese fries craving, and secured me with the right amount of pillows when I try to sleep. It will be exciting to see him enter this chapter as a dad. I know that this boy will be lucky to have him and I am counting my blessings that we get to add this baby to our family.

Throughout the pregnancy, it has been another reminder of the great village we have around us, as if we could ever forget. We have felt the prayers. We have experienced the joys, the love, the generosity, the care, concern, and the uncontainable excitement.  We have been blessed through two very special baby showers given by people so incredibly dear to me / us. We have been showered with so many special gifts, love, and positive energy as we get ready for this baby's arrival. It is a lot like getting married when you feel so much love and support for such a season of life, but this time your love produces a tiny human claiming the hearts of us all.

Though I know we will soon be swimming in poopy diapers, endless feedings, and piles of laundry, I hope to carve out a bit more time to document this next chapter. I don't want to lose sight of the precious memories and moments to come.

Thankful for our growing miracle.


*And for those of you in the midst of infertility, for what it is worth, I see you. It is a gnarly roller coaster of emotions, appointments and decisions. Whatever path you are choosing to take, I support you. I am in your corner. I am praying for you and with you. Loving on you. Hoping for you. And willing to sit through any of the stages with you. I am willing to share our own path for those that may want to reach out for thoughts, advice, tips, and tricks. Again, for what it is all worth as I am not an expert, but a fellow sister that has been on the journey. xo.

Thanks, Plenty of Fish.

Disclaimer: This is our dating story leading to our proposal. It could include mushy details and/or be somewhat longwinded. Read at your own risk, especially knowing I have deemed 2016 as the Year of Adventure.

So let's begin by saying, thanks Plenty of Fish. We have a match. And if I do say so myself, a very good one. In fact, we are one of the statistics that prove the successes of online dating, but not without our share of entertaining curveballs.

To be honest, I was ready to throw in the online towel after a very colorful string of dates (Besides the non-committal type, I had the likes of those that forgot to mention they were still married, had multiple unmentioned children, excessive neck tattoos or rap sheets a mile long. And we won't even get started about the guy claiming to be the next Christian Grey...insert major eye rolling and ewwww). I was over it. My dating history could be a never-ending season of The Bachelorette. Each bachelor had a nickname. I knew that soon I would end up on the news or running for my life in this dating drama.

So it was when I stumbled across Jack's profile, I found myself quickly amused by his interests and likes which included family, craft beer, blueberries, broken-in jeans, green tea, hiking, and sharks with lasers (huh?!--but sold.). It was easy to see his quirky personality I could easily be attracted to, but also his authenticity that was quickly communicated.

I decided to add him to my favorite list without hesitation. But being that he said he wanted his matches to say more than a few words, I needed to craft the perfect balance of sarcasm and interest to catch his eye. To my negligence however, it alerted him that I added him to my favorites but with no message. And if you know Jack, he was quick on the draw with a punchy message to me about it. Fast forward a few messages of wit and sarcasm to when he (finally) asked for my phone number. At this point, I felt pretty good that he was not going to chop me up into bits or steal my dog or my identity. I gave him my number.

But you guys, I gave him the wrong area code. Oh balls. He thought I was a mail order bride scamming him for money. True story. I was waiting for this thing to crash and burn, but he let me try again with the right phone number so that we could talk, which we did. I had to drive to a grocery store parking lot just to talk to him because I didn't get any reception in my house and God forbid I drop the call a million times. He would've definitely abandoned ship.

Fast forward a few calls to our first date, which involved craft beer and walking through town, talking endlessly. We had a few more dates like that when I realized this guy was legit. Strange thing was that I couldn't nickname this guy. He was in a league all of his own. He was speaking my language and perhaps I was speaking his. Somewhere along the lines we decided to shut down our profiles and do this thing. Over the course of the next months, we met families, endured a few career shifts and changes, and then my unexpected cancer news earlier this year. Jack never wavered from any of challenge presented. He has stood by the fact that we are better together, like our own wolfpack, especially once you add Stella ("we're the three best friends...").

Four hundred and eighty-four days after our first conversation, Jack was on his knee in the Orange Circle, right near home and the place of many memories, proposing to me wearing a usual oversized cotton tunic and favorite broken-in jeans kind of glory with the cotton still taped to our arms from earlier blood work we had done (talk about a hot date...). Funny that I had been focused on lunch all morning, while he had been focused on making sure there was still a ring in his pocket. Needless to say, I freaked out (a lot) when I saw Jack on his knee. I had absolutely NO clue it was coming. But that is exactly as I would dream it and then some. Especially when I kept asking what the heck he was doing as it felt so surreal hearing the magical marry me words. And of course, I cried (and freaked out) even more when I saw the ring he had designed for me. With my entire being, my answer is, was, and always will be YES!


I am still on Cloud Infinity with my favorite human (and our favorite puppy, Stella). The proposal was completely perfect. Good job, Jack. All the feelings happening here for us. It is all so overwhelming in the very best way. This has been one insane ride I wouldn't trade for the world. I have decided to nickname him: Husband. It has a good ring to it (pun *sort of* unintended).

In the end, I get to be this guy's forever bride, even if I did unintentionally give him the wrong phone number. He's got the right one now.

So, thanks Plenty of Fish. You can officially delete our dating profiles because we are getting MARRIED!

Reset Button and then Reset Again. Then one more time.

Oh balls...it has been one heck of a wild ride since leaving my job weeks ago. And just when I thought I had it all figured out, I have had to hit the reset button not once, not twice, but three times until I could finally get it right. It is no accident that in the last few weeks I have learned that I've been running 100 mph for so long that now everyone seems snail paced.I have also learned how to check my ego, how to value my worth, and that the grass is not always greener. But through it all, I am strong and I am finding my groove again.

I am thankful that I have met some amazing people along the way in the recent journey. Genuinely good people that I wish nothing but good on. This is more about learning that since leaving the teaching profession, my heart has not been settled. As I was so heavily involved with my kids as a teacher and coach, I have yearned (without realizing), that I find such joy in helping people. It is in my nature to serve and support. I have a need to be needed. The dichotomy comes in my creative brain that thrives in chaos. It has created such a challenge professionally as I find that one is sacrificed for the other. In a perfect and hopeful world, both will find equal place.

What I have learned in recent weeks is that the man I do life with is incredibly patient, kind, supportive and all things good for me. As I tend to find myself on the roller coaster time and time again, he stands by while I loop around one too many times without an I told you so on his breath (though I think he keeps those thoughts quietly in his back pocket). Bless him for enduring. And for his bouts of humor.

I have also learned that I'm impatient and often in the worst ways. I knew this about myself but have had to finally admit it begrudgingly. It does cause for a few eye rolls.

I am learning that doing life with intention is not easy. Life is messy. Sometimes life sucks, but life is also beautiful. There is a lot of hurt in the midst, but I have hope in the healing. Life can be chaos, but there is calm before and after the storms. I color in chaos.

In putting down roots again, there is vulnerability. True commitment stays, even when things get ugly. You can't run or hide when things get tough or uncomfortable. I want to be in it for the long haul. I want moments of joy to be etched in my memory bank as a well of resource when there are moments of drought.

For the most part, I am back in my own skin. My body is still somewhat tired (especially after starting Pure Barre, but I'll save that for a future post) but my soul is reenergized. Travel has done my heart well. I've spent time in Idaho with some of my favies and also took a long overdue vacation with an open ended agenda. It was an incredible coastal trip with my favorite companion. Lots of outdoor adventures, food indulges, and some great wine with amazing weather in the quaintest cabin made for moments to treasure along with the rocks and shells we brought home.

All to say, I'm indulging in my art again, getting healthy, cooking a lot (and actually well!), and enjoying the company I keep. Like the year I moved 8 times, and the year I went through meeting a ton of new people in my relationship transition, this Year of Adventure has led to significant professional change(s). But like the other changes, I'm finding myself in an even better place than I would imagine as it is opening the future for good.

So I will keep on dreaming. I will take the risks. And live just on the outskirts of my comfort zone. I will breathe deeply. I will look for joy, even in the desert moments. I encourage you to do the same. Trust me. It's where you find the treasure.

Rest Required.

So I am now in the cancer recovery zone from my surgery and barrage of doctor appointments. With an unexpected turn of being put on disability, I have been forced to rest from Dr. K for a few weeks. With skyrocketing blood pressure and the reopening of two incisions, I am now taking in the doctor's orders and find myself now at home most days, watching Netflix and writing, but also pouring my energies into resurrecting my need to create, draw, and paint. Alas, the birth of Paper Velveteen.

On a few attempts, I have tried to pursue my dreams to be an illustrator and children's author, but it always seemed as though life got in the way. Though that dream has evolved some, I am allowing my brush to do work once again. My new space has also been inspiring to do so along with the undivided time to devote. My work desk sits under two windows which gives so much natural light. As well, I find myself having dreams of new ideas, which is welcomed after weeks of restless sleep due to incisions, stress, and other such worries. (Still feels strange though not being in the office each day.)


It feels good to be back in my creative element. To listen to the still, small voice telling me that I can do this. That I can create something from nothing. That dreams come true with some ingenuity and hard work. And they aren't to be ignored.

So with that being said, I am in need of prayer as there are still some changes that need to be made. Some healing that is still underway. And a small dream starting to ignite into something quite undefined at this point.

Looking forward to this next chapter once again. After all, isn't this to be the year of adventure?!

p.s. If you are not yet following, give @papervelveteen some love. And please, tell your friends! There is more to come!

{The epic logo of Paper Velveteen was designed by the one and only @hat_daddy. Thanks, homie.}

What's My Address Again?

The new place is still under construction.

So as I know things have changed so fast for me this year that before I finish typing this sentence I will probably have another new address. Oh wait...that's right...I am moving. Yet again. In 6 weeks. It'll be Move Number 7 or 8 in the last 12 months. Oy vei. This move I will actually order address labels for and make sure my driver's license matches only so that it seems like I am settled this time for more than a minute. On that note, I have also decided to go back to the roommate life as I was given an offer too good to refuse. I think that it will be a healthy situation and perhaps will provide an for an interesting story someday. It will be nice to have someone there too. I am (we are) upgrading to a very nice new top-floor apartment in a beautiful area that will allow me to spend a lot of time outdoors in Peter's Canyon (as well as other local parks and beaches) so I can run again in good areas and my homegirl, Stella, will get to enjoy life in the dog park at our home. I am looking forward to the change (and to finally unpack--though cardboard brown is so the new black).

Trailer chic.

And though I have moved from La Habra to Cerritos to San Diego to Whittier to La Habra to stints in San Francisco to a vacation in Idaho to Santa Ana to Tustin, I have at least settled in to THE most amazing job. I hate to even call it a job as I don't feel like it is even work. I literally get to be in an environment surrounded by all things Ellen. Creative. Retail. Design. Food. Drink. People. And lots of movement and action. It is really everything in my wheel house. I had no idea such a thing existed. And though I miss the coaching and kids (and some people) of my past life, I could not love this job any more than I do. I work for a creative duo that are at the top of the game. And best part, I have a boss that is a creative genius, respectful, thoughtful, and funny. I had no idea how much my soul and spirit had been damaged in recent years by some in authority of my past professional career. But that has all seemed like ancient history as I work for people that encourage and build. Not a day goes by that I am not laughing and leaving the day feeling valued. It is a dream. Because in turn, I work that much harder and get to thrive in this place. What a novel concept.

People are asking me all the time what it is that I do. And to be honest, I am not sure how to put it in words. I manage an office of creatives. I facilitate the personal and professional schedules of my boss. I buy for the retail spaces. I get to shop and source furniture and accessories for our new ventures. I plan fun events. I get to be creative. I am part of many projects. I work with all kinds of people from city officials, to creatives, to restauranteurs and some major players in the development world. It is kind of crazy. Even more awesome is that I get to have a pulse on trends and pushing the design envelope as I learn from those I work with each day. I get to try all kinds of food and drink from the restaurants. I have met great people that are quickly becoming great friends. I wear whatever I want to work. My hair can be whatever color. And I get to be me. No judging. It is freeing. The bonus (besides these amazing people): we have a trailer and a shipping container in our office. Bet you can't say that about your work space!

Bunny.

Beyond life at The LAB, I have spent a good deal of time making these fly-by-night trips to San Fran. Thankfully my Pops and Katty Kat are there, but I also get to see my "Bestest." (That means he is better than a bestie.) We have been spending these moments together that feel like a blip on the radar, but honestly, we pack every minute. We are still this powerhouse known as Studio Black Sheep making events happen and gettin' it done.  It is amazing how someone can fill your life with so much love and laughter and joy and confidence all at once. And you can spend countless minutes together singing Katy Perry at the of your lungs and purring at each other without being annoyed. It is the best. And to be truthful, it is Jory that I can almost singlehandedly say has been a force in getting me back on my game. He is an amazing human. The kind that plants the deepest and most honest friendship one can ever ask for.

There is a handful of folk that I can say that about these days. They are the ones that know me best and have never left my side. I get to spend holidays with those families. Celebrate birthdays. Go shopping for creatures needed for a 5 year old birthday party or to even just clean out the garage (for days in a row). Or just show up at their house for Sundays together to do whatever the day may call for. It is the kind of stuff that takes my breath away when I feel the sadness for the yesteryears. I have these people that fill the empty spaces. They are more than friends. The "friend" word doesn't do justice. They've become family. And though they definitely don't replace the significant people of the past, they help to bring in new memories and help me to build again. Just this time as a better version of myself.

In a nutshell, I am back. I am alive. I am me again. It has been a decade or so, but watch out. The sleeping lions are wide awake. It was my 2014 resolution to THRIVE. And though this has taken on a completely different look than what I had imagined back on January 1, this is shaping up to be a chapter I couldn't have written better myself. And that, my friends, is how we know that we are NOT the authors of our own story. We simply play a role in a grander picture. Thank God for that.

And so, the ampersand chapter continues...&

Potato Land.

After spending the last week in the land of potatoes, it is a wonder that I did not send for my things and have Dave and Sarah pack Stella into a cardboard box and FedEx her. (Sidenote: Stella was an escape artist in my absence. Twice. Practically gave me a heart attack and caused an assembly of a giant search party. Thankfully, she didn't wander too far.) Had it not been for a wedding in CA, I may have had my mail forwarded to a Potato Land address.

Idaho, though I have now visited a handful of times, somehow quieted my soul this trip. I am sure breaking my Whole30 diet for a minute to have Zips helped a tad, but I think it had more to do with the company I kept. Being with the scrummies was priceless, and of course, seeing my sister and brother-in-law was an added bonus. My dad happened to coordinate his trip, so it was lots of family bonding time, but all in all, I savored the moments in Legos, baking cupcakes, hair braiding, walking hand in hand with RaeRae, jumping on the trampoline (thank God I didn't pee myself), and other such exciting adventures that come from spending time with girls that are 9 and 11. The Harry Potter marathon was fun. The summer storms were nerve rattling. The wake boarding was eventful (and full of colorful words). Paddle boarding was amazing (as was each day on the lake). The people continued to be so kind in the northwest. But ultimately, my trip came down to prized moments. One such moment in which I spent in church. It will be a moment I treasure for eternity.

The moment came on the heels of talking to Louski about life, friendships, and who God has made her to be. This girl is quite serious about her cupcakes and wanting to be a business owner someday. Her brain is always working. And she is now at an age where she is wanting to figure out what she is good at, while also wanting to be accepted by her friend groups. It just so happens to be an age that I cherish. She is the age of my people. Anyhow, we sat next to each other in church this last Sunday where she is now old enough to attend "big church." And at church, it was communion Sunday. As the bread and wine came down our aisle, we took our portions and quietly sang and prayed. And as I watched Caelan praying with all of her might, she spilled a bit of her grape juice. (Not surprising, as my sister did forewarn me that it is a regular occurrence.) But what I loved was that she was so focused on her prayers that she was not at all concerned with the purple drops on her jeans. Her child like faith has been a vision in my head ever since as I am in this place where my own faith continues to grow and be challenged. I am so incredibly thankful that my sister and Eric are raising their girls to be such amazing creatures. Honest. Loving. Creative. Respectful. And God loving. You can learn a lot from spending time with a 9 and an 11 year old.

Spending time in Idaho allowed my spirit to settle and to truly reflect on all that has happened in the last year or so. Even for a moment. Some of it has challenged me beyond belief. Much has surprised me. And some things, I am still sorting. And I am exhausted. But it also showed me that I am in this new chapter of life when I can do and be whatever I want. That I can go where the wind takes me. Or better yet, where God calls.

After a conversation with a friend in Idaho that I know from my way back life, he challenged me to really prayerfully consider this next chapter. And that perhaps, just maybe, I might be packing my stuff to move somewhere unexpected. As I am learning that God has a sense of humor, I am thinking that maybe there is some truth to the words of my friend in this adventure. And maybe one day, Potato Land might just be home. I could stand to snuggle on the couch with my nieces on a weekly basis or spend time paddle boarding with them on the lake. I don't want to miss out. And the great memories I made with Meg and Eric was refreshing. Or perhaps my next address will be in another time zone.

I am still facing a handful of unknowns, but this might all be because the adventure is just about to start. Doors continue to close and friendships continue to evolve in unexpected ways. My faith is continuing to be challenged and perhaps this faith of mine should look more like an 11 year old girl with purple spotted jeans.


P.S. Whole30, you are not fun on vacation. Day 22 is in the books and I still want beer and chocolate, with a side of cheese and frozen yogurt.

Whole30. Day 2.

Breakfast.

Whole30. Day 2.
Breakfast: Eggs (over easy). Grilled steak. Avocado. Cilantro. Onions. = Heaven on a plate (and kept me full!)
Lunch: Grilled steak salad with strawberries, mushrooms, onions and hardboiled egg.
Dinner: Baked chicken with bacon. Broccoli.
Drink: So much water throughout the day. I have cucumber and lime in my water mostly. I am definitely missing beverage choices. I crave a soda like nobody's business.
Snack: Banana with almond butter.

Dinner. 

This was much more successful than Day 1 as I figured out how to be less STARVING. It totally helps doing this concept with Sarah, and also with the great support of the folks from The Warehouse (my church). I love that I can pick their brains and see what they are eating, feeling, managing.

Thanks, Carly! 

I felt a bit more energetic on Day 2, but that could've just been a change in attitude as I have hit a crossroad in recent days and I am choosing to take the better path. As much I want certain things, I relinquish control. Things will happen when they need to. I feel like I am finally putting together some significant pieces of this journey and it is starting to make sense. I have much to be thankful for as I have a new car. A great place to live. New opportunities. A growing business with Studio Black Sheep. And a new hair style to accompany it all the change (Amazing what happens when you give your hairstylist carte blanche. You walk out with 6 less inches and a different color(s)--Carly gave me one of her best styles this week. She is the greatest. You need a good stylist? Call her.).

I often barely recognize myself as the only thing that has stayed the same is Grandma Stella. And even she is working on being an awesome dog, as if that is even possible. She is so incredibly social now. She is playing really well with others. And she is still snoring to be cute. Her only downfall is a pending surgery to fix her eye and to take out a tumor from her belly. (That will not be a fun day). She still likes to rock the homeless look, no matter how hard I try and shake that for her, she seems to like her hair best that way. And the little devil still talks back. She absolutely adores Sarah. I think she is working her way to Dave. I think they have a secret love-hate relationship. Overall, I think she misses snuggling on the couch (it is against the rules, which is good for her) and I know she often waits at the door in hopes that she will get a visitor. I swear, she is such a vital part of my life. Sounds so lame when people say dogs are the best of friends, but this puppy is my world. She is one of the faithful and has been a constant in the midst of change. In my humble opinion, dogs are one of God's best ideas.

I will soon be floating an Idaho river if I get a good price on a plane ticket. I can't wait to kick it with my potato people. And then I will come back hitting the ground running. Good things are in the works.

Home.

Often in the last year or two, I've been struck with the sleepless nights. Anxiety and worry fill my every thought rather than dreams of puppies and unicorns. Recent nights are no different. Perhaps now, the nights feel worse, even with my toolbox of self help skills, a great support group, and CR. I spend the wee hours of the night awake. In the sleepless nights, I scroll through countless Pinterest images, play my Simpsons game on my iPhone to exhaustion, then after I've stalked the Facebook and Instagram posts of the day, I'm left stirring.

These days my thoughts wander to a feeling of home. I left my childhood home at age 18 (and it was sold in the last few years after the divorce of my parents). Since then I've had 13 roommates and 10 addresses in the last 17 years. And to date, in a sense, I feel homeless. My life is in boxes and a 130 square foot storage unit. I no longer have a DVR filled with my trashy TV to watch, or a fridge filled with my own expired leftovers and jars of who knows what. I don't have family photos hanging on the walls or my piles of nonsense to sort. Most of my furniture has been sold off. And I sleep on air mattresses and couches. Sure, much of this could be filed under first world problems, but ultimately there is a deeply rooted longing for "home." The plans I had were quickly stripped and rerouted. 

In reality, I could take this in a spiritual direction as we all should long for our eternal home. But I'm on earth. And Lord willing, I've got some good years left on this planet. So until I'm at those pearly gates, I long to walk in the door of my own place and collapse. I would like to cook a good meal. I'd like to be surrounded by faces of those I love. I want Stella to feel settled. I'd like to kick my feet up on the couch and talk endlessly to a friend with a glass of wine. And though I want these things, I can see that these last few years (as the wheels fell off so to speak), I've slowly been stripped of my every comfort and identity. I no longer have a job. I am not identified by a relationship of years. My address is TBD. No wonder I stay awake wondering what to do. Where do I matter. Who needs me. Am I even needed. What is my worth. Am I making the right decisions. Do I apply for this job or that. Will this feel normal. How do I move on.

My sister said it well in that this is my chance to be creative. To discover more of me. That I'm not identified by the place I work. The career I had. Or the people I dated. Easier said than done, but the seed has been planted. 

I wish I could say that I was totally satisfied. That all of this is one great big happy adventure. Instead, I question God. I yell at Him wondering when enough is enough. And just when I think I've cried every possible tear and I'm left feeling so empty and defeated, I get a Facebook post of encouragement from an old friend speaking to me of God's grace and favor. And then I get a card in the mail of bunnies and rainbows. Not that it fixed every problem, but it did remind me that at the end of my rope, I find the faithful friends that will pull a hamstring trying to do the splits in the air for my support. I don't have to live at the end.

This plan isn't my own. And though pieces of it are far better than I can imagine, there is a sadness wishing for what was. And my nagging and longing for the sense of home.